


Cabaret

by trashemdudes



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Grayson (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Tim Drake ain't no delicate flower, Tim is real gay for dick, dick is a stripper, noncon but its sorta complicated so more details in endnotes, they smoosh booties
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 07:56:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7793449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashemdudes/pseuds/trashemdudes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agent 37 is sent to a strip club. Guess who he finds there?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cabaret

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't particularly like Dick Grayson's characterization in Grayson, so despite that being the setting ish, I aimed for more of a Teen Titans comic version of him. Stuff connected to Grayson might be iffy cause I only read the first issue. I tagged underage cause Tim Drake is Peter Pan and he can't seem to age. Reasons for noncon in endnotes b/c spoilers is why.

Dick didn’t really care to know what was going on - except he couldn’t exactly block out his superior officer’s orders. He frowned at Helena, folding his arms, and leaned against the wall of her office.

“Seriously?...a strip club?" He couldn't help the amused disbelief lining his tone.  “How did this guy even join Spyral? Don’t you guys have pretty strict background checks? Making sure you have them wriggling under your thumb?”

He cocked his head and raised his eyebrows.

Helena looked back at Dick for a long moment, blatantly ignored him, and then shuffled the papers. He was pretty sure she imagined creative ways of murdering him sometimes.

She said, “So the mission will be at the Harbor Girls Club in San Francisco. Malcom Sitwell frequents this club - goes there almost every week and off record. I’m sure he thinks he can go there again without detection; he’s got no idea that we’re on his tail. Chances are, he’s using embezzled money to pay for strippers and prostitutes, so we need to catch him, make sure its him who’s stealing the money without,” she emphasized, “upsetting him in case he’s not because - despite his tastes, he’s an asset when he’s actually on our side. So,” She slammed her files on the table, “ I need one of you to be on the mission - the other’s back up.

Tiger snorted folding his arms in a relaxed slouch - copycat, “I am not taking that mission.”

There was a long silence as both Helena and Tiger turned to look at Dick who held up his hands, “I don’t know if it means anything to both of you but I don’t really want to wear heels.”

Helena gave him a steady look, “I said one of you, but I’m not putting Tiger in heels or makeup, Agent 37. He’d scare the target away.” She sighed, “Trust me if I had any other agents available here besides the six foot scary muslim and you, I would have sent them out.”

“You could try,” Dick offered, “You haven’t even seen him in them before. Hey. Maybe we’d be surprised.”

She snorted derisively at him while Tiger glared, “Well, Agent 37, you don’t get to choose your missions.”

“Have fun,” Tiger growled, half irritated and possibly amused at Dick’s predicament. Dick couldn’t tell and didn’t try; he had what he felt was a headache coming on at the thought of a strip club. He'd be lucky if he got out of there without decking some pervert for harassing some girl. And there was also the fact that he’d be wearing a glitzy dress with almost no clothing and showing himself off to them.

Dick sighed. God he was so going to take this and shove it in Bruce’s face.

 

* * *

 

Dick turned his ankle and left and right scrutinizing the way the straps on the heels wrapped around it. And also possibly saying goodbye to his poor ankle because four inch stilettos were hell on his feet. He should probably have a talk with Selina about that. How or why she had chosen heels to prowl on in Gotham. Well besides being able to viciously step on Batman's crotch when he was being particularly angsty.

“Blue, are you ready to go on?”

Dick turned around, a proprietary smile placed on his face, “Yes sir, I’m ready.”

He ran his fingers unthinkingly over his painted face, the heavy eyeshadow and winged eyeliner, red waxy lips.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t pulled this kind of stunt with Tim before, as if he hadn’t done it in his younger years with Bruce before too, laughing his ass off at Bruce’s uncomfortable expression at having put his ward in a garish dress and stilettos, but this was different. It’d been with family and more or less out of his own free will and now Dick was -  undeniably male in his appearance. He’d been able to put it off at sixteen because he’d been a shrimp, but now - well he still was compared to the inhuman heights in the superhero community - he was too angular and muscular to fit the part of a slim, curvy female.

Which was why it was fitting of course that Helena had sent him into a transvestite strip club.

Never let it be said that that woman didn’t know what she was doing.

The man impatiently held the door open as Dick walked out with a flourish, heels clicking as he swayed his hips, feeling highly ridiculous and more than little giddy.

The lights were blinding when he got onto the stage and they announced his name, “Welcome Blue, our newest dancer!”

Dick gave a little shake of his hips, making each movement slow and sensuous as his arms shifted, outlining the curves of his body as he drew his arms upward. Then he smiled, setting one heel forward.

When he suddenly wondered why the fuck Tiger wasn’t there instead of him - besides the fact that the man lacked the ability to dance like a stripper.

Then again maybe Dick should wonder why he knew how.

He blamed it on having hung around far too many older women who found things like that funny.

It had been fun though.

And it was a really good workout.

So admittedly Helena had probably made the right decision between the two of them. Tiger was a spy yeah, but not the subterfuge kind.

He set the tip of the heel down and slid a finger tip up the pole, tilting his head as he scanned the crowd. It was hard to see the crowd’s faces with the bright lights shining on him.

But he should be able to make out Sitwell. He’d studied his face before coming in - and really, if not, Dick just had to get up close and personal with the crowd.

 

Dick hooked a leg around the pole, rubbing the metal up and down slowly with his inner knee before grasping the pole with both hands and pulling himself forward and arching his head back, baring his neck, and then his back, curving down as his thighs gripped the pole instead of his hands.

There was a loud whistle.

Dick sighed. Hello slums of San Francisco. 

Once he got back from Spyral, he needed to have talk with Tim and the Teen Titans about not only dealing with high profile criminals, but working on the streets in normal, basic detective work.

He swung around the pole, using only his thighs, showing off his lacy garter belt - tight enough that just the slightest bit of fat overflowed - that was revealed as his dress rode up, with a wiggle before he got upright again, using his hands to draw the audience’s attention from his chest to his narrow hips and round thighs.

Dick climbed up again, spinning as he did so with only one leg tightened around the pole. He kept his back arched as he did so. After a moment of whistles and yells to just take all his clothes off already because they wanted to see his pretty little cock and his perky ass, Dick grabbed the pole to slow his spinning and pressed it between his thighs as he turned horizontal, his muscles straining. He could do what they asked. Sure. But he really didn’t fucking want to.

Screw you Helena. Spyral.  Next time, Tiger was taking this kind of job. Shove Tony the Tiger into a wig and pink prom dress.

He fingered the strap of the glittery dress and pushed it over his shoulder, revealing an entirely unnecessary lacy brassiere.

With each spin, he scanned the crowd from wall to wall, but the faces in the back were too hard to make out under the dim lighting there and were too far away, too small to see clearly at the rate he was going.

He stepped off the stage and glanced around, letting his eyes adjust as he gyrated his hips - they were all staring with desire heavy in their eyes. Some even palming themselves.

He stared back, making eye contact with each and every one and slowly letting his lips curve into a flirtatious smile. He slowly pushed his dress up and slowly, sensuously pulled it up and off, throwing it on the stage.

Sitwell still wasn’t in sight.

His heels clicked down the stairs.

Hopefully he wasn’t in a private booth and hopefully Dick didn’t have to give anyone a private dance.

He slid his finger along the shoulder of a guy he was passing by and went into the second row of people. God they were all staring at his crotch that was badly cover by the lacy panties made of sheer cloth.

Still no Sitwell.

Dick passed by a few more, trying to not punch the guys who tried to get a couple firm gropes in. There was one guy in the back... Dick finally got near the man to find that he wasn’t Sitwell. He glanced around and there was one other guy in a hoodie in the back, but his body shape wasn’t right. Too slim to be the man.

There were a few other people in a booth with its curtains shut in the back, but Dick knew there were sorority girls in there on a dare.

If Sitwell wasn’t there....Dick cursed internally. Helena had said he’d be there that night. If he wasn’t, then it meant that Dick might have to come back. Or it meant that the man had caught on and was on the run while Dick had wasted a night wearing glitter.

Well. No night was wasted wearing glitter. That actually had good circus memories associated with it.

He slowly made his way back to the stage, trying not to rush and ignored the upset catcalls for a lap dance for at least one person in the crowd.

After a few more spins, Dick finished the song, taking the night as a loss. He was walking off the stage into the back room when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Dick?”

He turned around.

Tim.

In a hoodie. The guy from before. A hoodie and jeans and sneakers. A confused look on his face.

Dick froze and could hear, feel every throb of his heartbeat in his fingertips pulsing.

Tim. Gotham. Batman. Nightwing.

He felt a rush of shame and panic at the thought of his faked death. Tim couldn't have been tracking him, could he have?

When he finally moved, his bones seemed to creak. And then he was smiling again, running his tongue across his lips as he leaned forward conspiratorially to whisper in Tim’s ear, “Is that a request? Or an offer? The boss has a room in the back just for this if you can keep quiet from the cops.”

Tim’s flush was immediate as he gaped like a fish, “No. I -uh. You’re Dick. Dick Grayson. You wouldn’t have amnesia like...” He snapped his mouth shut, his wide blue eyes searching Dick’s face with a little frown.

Good luck with that. Dick was probably sure his face was covered under miles of foundation and glitter.

“Dick Grayson? Who’s that?” Dick let his lips curve into a slow smile, “I can be him for the night if you want, just say the word.” God, what Dick would give to be himself for once, to not have to live a lie every waking day. Saying he was part of Spyral, working with people he might have to put in jail, to be able to fully block out the fact that he liked his coworkers. Obviously the Outsiders and Titans debate had never been truly resolved in his heart.

...to be able to go back to people he could call home, people who didn’t kill. Well. Except for Jason.

...but, what was Tim doing in a gay stripper club? For a case? Maybe one he’d picked up during a visit with the Titans?

There was a slight air of apprehension on Tim before his expression closed off and he said, his voice stone cold, “Alright. Back room?”

It took a moment. Tim wasn’t- he wasn’t actually? Dick had just meant to scare Tim off - tease him a little with flirting because Tim in a shady nightclub really should've been expecting it. The way he dressed yelled money.

But Tim had accepted and after Dick's initial knee jerk rejection, he was...considering it. He hadn’t heard back from Bruce for a while now, didn’t have any access to his family. This was the closest he’d gotten in months.

He had questions. Needed to know if Bruce was alright. Damian. He couldn’t be doing so well after coming back to life. If Barbara had- what she thought of Hunk Wonder now. And which one of them it was exactly that had amnesia. He could do it. Get in and out. Maybe knock Tim out and take his cash, make him think he’d been robbed.

Tim had more than enough cash anyway. Dick knew those jeans alone cost somewhere up in the hundreds.

Not that he would have to anyway. Tim probably just wanted to probe him for information to make sure whether he was Dick Grayson or not.

Dick could imagine Tim actually grilling him and then probably giving him the money, forget Dick stealing, so that he might have an easier time. Cute kid. Dick barely hid a little grin at that.

Dick licked his lips and then winked, sliding his hand from Tim’s shoulder, along his arm to his wrist, “Sounds good, hun.”

Tim’s nod was restrained, barely a twitch as he followed Dick through the crowd, deeper into the rooms.

Dick couldn’t help glancing back every few seconds, running his thumb across Tim’s pulse point, back and forth, back and forth.

His heels clicked on the hard floor, making a steady rhythm that blended with the thud of the music. Behind him, he could feel the burn of Tim’ s gaze on him.

He wouldn’t find anything of course. Dick would make sure of it. Tim was a great detective, definitely. Probably better than Dick by now, seeing as how he liked that part of the job best. Dick got obsessed - needed it some days like he needed air, but Tim was passionate about it. His mind naturally clicked pieces together.

But Dick's presence, it was with the help of a whole organization with brilliant if suspicious and dangerous tech. His whole body was covered by the same hypnos tech that hid any of his incriminating scars and he had no trouble pretending to be someone else. Detectives were built on the details.

And okay, Dick was also a little curious to see if he could outdo Tim. He couldn’t help being a little competitive.

When they reached the door, Dick pulled it open, pausing to smile slyly at the man smoking a few feet away.

“Taking a customer in already, Blue?”

Dick winced internally at having been so sentimental in his choice of nickname. “Yeah, boss. Hope its not a problem.”

The man eyed him before nodding slowly and taking a long drag, “Don’t be too long. We still got other customers out there.”

Faintly, he wondered what Tim was thinking. He slipped inside, gently tugging Tim with him and then closed the door shut with a click. Maybe he’d threaten Dick for information or check to see if he really had amnesia or not. If he was a clone.

Dick paused. He would have to make sure he didn’t give Tim any DNA to identify him with...well, it wasn’t like this was going anywhere. After all, he looked like Dick Grayson, Tim's broth--

He hit the wall hard enough to lose his breath and Tim’s lips, soft and hot, were on his, tongue probing for entrance. Dick was surprised enough to let him and his tongue was slick on his, running it over his and shoving it deeper. When he drew back, both of them letting out little pants for air, he continued sucking slowly on Dick’s lower lip while his hands moved from his hips to curve around his ass and squeeze. He grinded against him, holding him down and back.

And it sent a streak of pleasure slicing down Dick's spine.

“Nn- sir,” Tim. “Sir. I-”

Tim pulled back and Dick’s hands lingered where they were, loosely holding onto his sleeves.

“I wasn’t hurting you was I?” Tim said lowly, not meeting his eyes.

“No, I-”

“You said you’d pretend to be him.”

“Y-yeah.”

“...my name’s Tim,” He finally said, and when he looked up again, Dick realized he should say something back. His expression softened as he gently rubbed his thumb against Tim’s jaw, unable to help the twinge in his chest, seeing Tim’s expression. And. It just. Slipped out.

“You alright, Tim? I’ve been worried about you.”

All the color drained out of Tim face, his eyes wide and scared, before he took in a deep breath, and leaned forward, pressing his face into Dick’s neck, “Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine. I just- I just-”

Dick ran his finger through Tim’s hair -combing through the soft and long locks, his heart racing in his chest. No. This was okay. This was good. Tim had stopped - had...had stopped and Dick could get him talking.

“You can tell me Tim. I want you to.”

Let him get it out to a stranger. Dick knew well that sometimes it was difficult to talk to the people closest to you and if his death affected Tim like Bruce’s had then...then this way, Dick could help Tim and himself.

Tim made a pained sound.

“...I- I miss you is all. J’s been...he’s been hanging around more, saying as the next oldest, he’ll pick up your slack. He’s been taking care of D. He’s been...freakishly nice to me too. And-and...god, I hated myself for so long for letting my dad...and it was hard to see B not feeling the same, not showing one fucking hint of remorse for not saving you. I wanted him to. I know how bad it was for us when he was gone, when J was, but somehow, he doesn’t seem to care? And now, he doesn’t even remember. That’s great, but still. How could he just forget that you’re...I don’t get it. Babs’ moving on, and I know she’s hurting, but I see her on a date, and I don’t get how she can just...you’re gone and it's not the same...” Tim let out a soft chuckle. He shook his head, his bangs shifting with him as he stared up at Dick, expression searching for something that Dick couldn’t give at the moment, “You know I had the worst crush on you.”

What? Tim-

“S used to tease me about it all the time, saying I’d dump her just for the chance  to get a kiss from you. I wouldn’t have. Because I knew you loved Babs in that way that meant always, and I loved you in that way that meant always, and never.”

Dick heard a little choking sob and couldn’t help but press Tim closer to him and rub his back gently, “It’s not always on my mind, and I haven’t done anything stupid like I tried with K, but...”

He breathed with his wet face against Dick’s skin, nuzzling against him, his breath cooling Dick’s dampened skin. He pressed a kiss to the soft skin there and Dick faintly realized that Tim had never moved his hands and was pulling Dick’s hips into his to grind against him.

Dick let out a stuttered moan.

Tim sucked on the delicate skin on his neck, hard enough to bruise, pressed his erection against Dick’s, hands slowly sliding up to peel off Dick’s shirt. His warm, calloused hands drew idle circles against his skin, making Dick ticklish all over and he let out a soft laugh.

Tim snapped up to eye him, not angry or embarrassed, but questioning and Dick felt his heart stop before he pulled Tim in again for another kiss to distract him.

He shouldn’t be doing this. But Dick had been missing this affection from anyone for a long time. It felt good. Bruce had never said he missed him, and never said much about the rest of them. He knew that it was because he didn’t want to make the loneliness more prominent in Dick’s mind. They didn’t have time for it, to risk it - it wasn’t necessary after all when every second was another second they risked getting exposed. But Dick wouldn’t have minded taking the risk for his family.

He wanted to see them.

Though not, preferably, as a stripper role-playing Dick Grayson...about to have sex with his little brother...

He’d known a long time ago that he wanted to be like his parents. Fall in love, get married. They’d always been the type to be faithful, to do things with meaning. Sex always had meaning for Dick and he’d always felt guilty when he tried to use it to comfort the aching in his skin and heart, for when it was just for fun.  But he couldn’t pull away now, do the guilty ‘we’re brothers’ act when he wasn’t right now. And this time, Dick had no way to wait a few days and then return to soothe Tim’s paranoid worries. He only had now.

And it was, Dick knew, sex with love.

It wasn’t a big deal. He just...Dick couldn’t think. Tim’s hands were all over him. Apparently Barbara was dating someone else - what did he expect? She thought he was dead. Bruce had amnesia, so Dick was all alone in Spyral and Gotham didn’t have a Batman. Unless Jason had... no. Tim would’ve said if Jason had gotten violent. And besides that, Damian probably needed him even more now.  So Dick was alone. He didn’t exist anymore.

The best version of himself, the one around his family, didn’t exist and he suddenly felt so tired in the heels that were making his feet ache and the pounds of makeup on his face. He just wanted...just wanted to feel like himself.

Instead it felt like everything was floating far away.

Nothing to fight for. Dick hadn’t found anything.

No one to fight for. Bruce was...gone. Again.

He was just so tired of this.

Dick tangled his hands in Tim’s hair, recognizing the faint moans coming out of his mouth as he stuck a leg between Tim’s to rub against his clothed cock. There was a visible reaction almost immediately as his touches became more insistent.

He stopped thinking, sinking into the feeling.

Tim was pulling down Dick’s pants before he could react; his hands pried Dick’s cheeks apart and - what? when - had well lubed fingers rubbing against his entrance.

He let out a soft moan when they pulled apart for air and when Tim gripped his length with his other hand, Dick’s head hit the door, baring his neck.

“F-uck. Tim.”

He glanced down through heavily lidded eyes to find that there was only a thin ring of blue around Tim’s pupils. Tim ran his tongue against the revealed skin, mouthing gently at it as he pressed a finger inside, the movement slow and inexorable. He thrust it in and out in time with his other hand on Dick’s erection and his other fingers, the knuckles dug into Dick’s cheeks, a promise.

The rest of his fingers soon followed, digging into his prostate until Dick was depending on Tim and the door to hold him up. His legs were reduced to shivers.

Dick couldn’t keep his eyes on Tim’s face, the - oh fuck - naked hunger on it; instead he looked up at the stained ceiling as he slowly and thoroughly prepared him, spreading his fingers and caressing the sensitive walls. Dick couldn't help pushing back needily as Tim finally added in a third finger.

“Fuck.” Dick heard Tim mutter, soft enough that he had to strain to hear. “You’re so hot and soft inside. I want to eat you out.”

What. The. Fuck. Tim.

Tim swiped his thumb across the crest of Dick’s cock and he let a resulting moan. Then he let go, holding onto him just enough so that he didn’t fall to the ground.

“On your hands and knees, facing down. Your choice of bed or floor.” There was a short pause. “Please.”

Dick let out a weak smile and when Tim let go, moved towards the bed to do as asked.

Don't think. Just go. If it feels right, Dick, - he took in a shaky breath - leap. You'll know.

There was the rustle of clothing dropping to the floor before the bed shifted under added weight and then there was the tear of foil.

“Could I have one too?” There was a pause. “I don’t want to get the sheets dirty. They’re a pain to clean up.”

A condom was pressed into Dick’s hand and he made quick work of it before Tim had grabbed his shoulder to steady himself and said softly, “I’m going to press in, if that’s alright.”

Dick swallowed the lump in his throat, ignoring any mental protests and nodded at the press of the head of Tim’s cock against his entrance. The next few moments were too long where Dick could hear every hitch of Tim’s breath and every added inch of his cock until Dick was spread wide and dripping precum into the condom. The slightest move on Tim’s part had Dick twitching, grasping at the sheets, “God...”

Dick didn't move, just took in shaky breaths to try to adjust, hoping Tim would give him more time so that he wouldn’t embarrass himself by finishing before it had even begun.

Then Tim pulled out and in one fast move, shoved back in and Dick let out a strangled moan. Faster. Harder. Enough to block everything out because Dick was alone and was going to be for a very long time. He might even die, no one who was important to him ever realizing.

He didn’t mind. He could take it. If Spyral knew their identities like Bruce had suspected then it was worth it, but Dick should get this one indulgence that no one would find out about in return.

Each push moved slammed the headboard against the wall, making a steady rhythm.

Dick scrabbled to get a good hold on the sheets, split between stifling his moans and making them louder, because he was after all, supposed to be a whore.

It felt dirty to let the loud, desperate groans of pleasure pass his lips but at the same time, Tim was quiet, so if Dick didn’t make any noise, he could hear the slap of flesh against flesh and a soft squelch - because Tim had been careful and well prepared.

God. How could it feel so good, Dick on his elbows and knees, face planted into the mattress and his legs spread obscenely as his skin and muscle seemed to tingle where Tim was leaving handprints on his hips. It sent electric sparks all up through his body.

“T-im,” Dick gasped.

Tim shoved in harder in response.

“Touch my- t-touch my,” Dick barely managed even as Tim reached around to run his finger across the tip of Dick’s cock except it wasn’t enough and Dick shoved his hips forward to get more friction, but Tim only continued lightly tracing his cock up and down, teasing him.

He wanted his hands directly on him so badly.

Tim shoved forward with a particularly brutal thrust while Dick whined for his hand underneath him before Tim bent forward, his chest pressing against Dick’s curved back, to bite down hard, pulling at the flesh by Dick’s neck.

“Aa--gg,” Dick panted, eyes watering. What the hell?

Tim shoved forward again, his jaw releasing Dick even as he licked roughly, a little desperately at the blood and sweat like he wanted to drink it up.

“...my name. Say it,” Tim almost begged.

“Tim,” Dick grit out, a moan bursting from his lips at the end of the syllable. He arched his neck, letting out little jerky whimpers as Tim slammed into him and came, hands roughly jerking Dick off. Dick shuddered, rubbing his nipples against the sheets with each tug of Tim’s hand, trying not to hear and clinging to the words all the same that Tim sobbed, "Dick..." A soft hiccup and sob. " _Dick_ , why'd you have to die?"

Dick was so close. The blood was rushing to his head, roaring over the sound of Tim's voice but not enough to block out the feel of his softening cock and smooth skin, the strands of hair tickling his back, the scent of his sweat surrounding him. It was all late nights on rooftops, stupid existential discussions, trash talk, anxiety, hurt and comfort, bruises, aching muscles, Lycra and rubber, cold air, something good and bright, trust and _home._

There was Tim’s hand on his cock but before Dick could come, he tightened his grip and Dick teared up, trying to dislodge him, ‘Wha-what the hell, Tim? I need to-”

“Wait.”

Tim pulled out, cock still softening, Dick shuddering at the slick feeling as he collapsed with his ass on display. Tim put a hand on his shoulder and flipped him over, pulling him upright so that he was sitting up on show, hair matted, just veiling his dazed eyes, legs spread, gasping and his hole red and still fluttering. And then, making sure Dick was making eye contact with him, Tim parted his swollen red lips and took Dick’s cock in.

His pale blue eyes were too wide - they were angry and all too sad and Dick wished he could do something about it, wished it wasn’t him who was adding onto it all.

Tim swirled his tongue over the crown of Dick’s cock and then sucked hard on just the head - Dick almost ripping the sheets held in his fists - before he pulled off and licked from the root to the head, ending with a swipe of his tongue on the slit, eyes intent on Dick’s.

He then swallowed him to the root.

When Dick came, letting out a loud cry, Tim made sure he never looked away. He pulled off  and then shifted to fall onto the bed beside Dick, pulling him into a long, lingering kiss.

His hand held Dick’s cheek carefully, desperately, and when he pulled away slowly, tugging at his lower lip, it ended with a little lick of Dick's lips, the taste bitter and salty. 

Dick was burning up on the outside, skin on fire but still his mouth and lips felt cold as Tim pulled away, holding his gaze.

Dick suddenly understood why it was difficult to recall the color of the eyes of someone you loved - because just being in their presence - scent, taste, feel, sound, sight - washed reality away until it was colored solely by the joy, anger, sorrow they forced you to feel. No choice. Just stealing your breath away.

I'm _sorry._

Dick doesn't say.

And then Tim buried his face into Dick’s chest, “You’re so...arrogant and bull headed and even...cruel sometimes, you know that. But you don’t. And even that couldn’t offset how much you mean to me. You’re the one person in my life who’s around...” There was Tim. In that pause- it was everything his little brother was. Probably adding in all the exact moments Dick hadn’t.  Always had to be precise - and still holding back to even a stranger. “...and who doesn’t have a problem telling me, showing me you care.”

And then Tim was asleep, sweat sticking their skin together where it touched and cooling the rest of them.

Dick would wait a few minutes until Tim was deeper asleep, then clean up, change the sheets, clean Tim up, make sure no evidence of Dick Grayson ever being there was in Tim’s hands. Go back to being Agent 37, trying to ignore the escalation of aching in his chest and the new found ache in his body.

But the steady sound of Tim’s heart would linger with him the whole way. 

**Author's Note:**

> It's noncon because when they have sex, Tim doesn't know it's actually Dick. I say it's more complicated than that because in my head, if Dick ever propositioned Tim, the guy'd trip over his feet to get to him. But still, Tim wasn't aware of all the factors to make a informed consensual decision and that is really not ok.
> 
> Sorry if this is weird, but I can never tell if someone wants a reply to their comment or not. So if you do comment, and want a response, put an @ at the beginning!


End file.
